My Little Utopia

I don't know if it's actually true or not, but supposedly gas stations in Georgia are closing their doors at 3PM EST and not re-opening them for at least two days. It has to do with Katrina and a broken gas line or something. I had a doctor's appointment at lunch and he and his nurse told me. The nurse told me the news right before she decided to take my blood pressure, which raised my blood pressure to 140/90, so she had to take it again...114/86...when I calmed down. I get worked up easily. The nurse told me she'd seen or heard it on TV, and I was so anxious that I could hardly wait to leave the doc's office. I went as fast as I could and found gas at the bargain basement price of $2.70. You read that right...it's a bargain. On my way back to work, I saw $2.93, $2.95 and the dreaded $2.99.

As I type this blog right before 3PM, I wonder if all the gas stations will really be closed on my way home. After the Y2K scare and the terror alert being raised to "SEVERE" just because Muslims were in their days of pilgrimage, known as Hajj, I can't help but wonder what's true and what's not. Remember Y2K? Everything was supposed to crash, and the world was supposed to be in disarray. The fact is that we could even check our email on January 1, 2000. No big deal. Everything was pretty much just fine. And I remember working in DC and the terror alert being raised to the highest of the high. Yeah, it was when Muslims were finishing up their yearly pilgrimage, a time of praying and reflection. But we all know what the government thinks when Muslims get together...

Anyway, I really hope all the gas stations are open on my way home. I'm glad Y2K was really no big deal, except that old checks with 19__ needed to be thrown away. Obviously, Muslims weren't going to leave a pilgrimage en masse to wreak havoc on the world.

I guess the scare tactics work, though. I filled up my car and alerted my co-workers to what I had heard. My parents had a few extra things around in preparation for Y2K. I remember walking through our nation's Capitol on the day that the terror alert was the reddest of the red, and I had to walk by a man with a machine gun to get inside.

Oh, but if he knew I was Muslim...

Why do people like to scare us? I don't know. Why do we like to scare ourselves? I admit seeing "Red Eye" this weekend and watching parts of it through slits between my fingers. I guess it's the thrill that we seek.

But it's not funny to play with people's emotions when it comes to safety. I really hope this gas thing isn't true. I hope no scary stories about another Depression coming or this and that ever come true. I guess when it comes down to it, I'll take a bark with no bite if it means my little utopia gets to stay just the way it is.

Reflections on Katrina

Well, I think Hurricane Katrina has finally slowed down. I just can't believe all the damage! As I watched "The Today Show" this morning, I was astonished to see NBC's Brian Williams literally knee-deep in water in the middle of Bourbon Street. The coast of Mississippi has been hit really hard, and my hometown which is about two hours from Memphis, was even affected. I talked to my dad this morning and huge trees had fallen over in our yard, and the entire town was without power.

My thoughts and prayers go out to all affected.

It's weird to see the place where you honeymooned filled with water. Williams said it was the strangest feeling to stand and watch ships go by at the same level as you stood. I can't even imagine.

Where do people even begin to pick up the pieces? How long will it be before New Orleans and Biloxi and everywhere else is back to normal? How long will it be until power is back on everywhere? (Side note...it's Buh-LUX-see, NOT Buh-LOCK-see. Pet peeve.)

I think about those people without electricity, and I am ashamed to think of how if the power goes out, I stress about how I am going to blow-dry and straighten my hair. Katrina has really made me take a moment to think...I'm sure no one in Katrina's path cares about blow-drying their hair. They care about putting the pieces of their lives back together.

I guess we can all take a lesson from this disaster. Know what's really important. Help your neighbor. It's OK that you can't plan for everything. Some things aren't worth stressing about, especially if the answer is as simple as putting your hair up in a ponytail.

I know if a disaster ever came through Georgia and we had to evacuate, I'd want to pack everything possible. If I had time to only take one thing, though, it would be my wedding album. Some things just can't be replaced. Some things can. And it's important to know the difference.

Laboring Towards Labor Day

Agitated if I'm bored.

Agitated if I'm busy.

I think it's definitely time for Labor Day.

You see, I think many of us have reached this point. We're simply sick of work. And if you don't work, you're probably ready for your significant other to come home so you can enjoy a long weekend together.

Yesterday I was sick, so I spent much of the day watching TV and lying in bed. I was so bored that I was actually relieved to come to work today. I felt really bad, so there wasn't much more I could do. I got up and cooked supper, but that was about it. I finally started feeling better by evening, and glad to be up and about doing something productive. Then, this manic Monday morning was extremely busy, so of course...I wanted to go home. I didn't want to be too busy and I didn't want to be too bored. Wow. I am feeling really hard to please.

But alas, there is a light coming at the end of this tunnel...thank goodness Monday is Labor Day. I have a fun weekend planned, beginning with going to see "Phantom of the Opera," which I have never seen before. I have never enjoyed a musical so, *fingers crossed*, I hope I'll actually like this one. See...presto! I won't be too busy and I won't be bored. It'll be just right.

Bert is a teacher, so he loves to tell me how many days he has left at work. Me? Who knows how many I have here. I work year-around, like most people, so there really is no "ending" to this. Just like with housework, I guess. Fine, you got the laundry done, but you can do another load in a few days. Made the bed? Great, now just get ready to do it again in the morning. Fixed supper? Super. Do it again tomorrow.

And on and on and on.

I think these ramblings are simply the thoughts of someone in dire need of a long weekend. And lucky for us all, it's just around the corner.

A Birthday Wish

• understood me when no one else did
• made me pick up pine cones in the yard even when I didn't want to, which certainly builds character
• walked me down the aisle on my wedding day
• took us swimming in the creek
• let us ride down the road with the windows down AND the air conditioner blowing
• always believed in me
• provided for our family and made sure we had everything we needed and lots of things we wanted
• made me always feel safe when you were there
• was so strong that I never told other kids "My dad can beat up your dad" because it simply went without saying
• took us trick-or-treating
• kept our yard looking so nice
• yelled at me when I had done wrong, but let it go in the next moment and never hung anything over my head
• hid all the Easter eggs
• is so handsome that my high school guidance counselor pulled me aside to tell me so
• introduced me to homemade blueberry ice cream
• let us buy whatever we wanted at the grocery store when Mama went on business trips
• played with us in the sandbox and on the Slip 'n Slide and even in the kiddie pool
• always tells it like it is
• still calls Mama sweet names
• is extremely intelligent
• has an incredible work ethic
• took me on the best 3-wheeler rides ever
• is the best Daddy in the world.

Bath Time

Boy was I mad.

Ariana, Bert's daughter, was here this past weekend and she FINALLY told me she has been taking showers since she was six.

She's seven.

I remained composed in front of her, but I was so mad. All I could think about is how I was exhausted the two weeks she was here this summer after working all day, coming home, working out, cooking dinner and bathing her. She refused to let Bert bathe her and scheduled all her bathtime around me. I completely understood not wanting to let her daddy give her baths anymore, but COME ON, I was exhausted after a long day's work and she could've told me!!

"Why didn't you tell me?" I said.
"You never asked," she replied. She could tell she'd done something wrong.
"Excuse me," I said.

Then Bert got a big ol' earful. He listened. I ranted. My legs had suds on them from where she lathered herself up with bodywash, and I was fuming. Fuming.

I asked her a few more questions about her bathing habits. She told me Bert's mom still washes her hair, but at her house, she does it all. I looked at her tiny little hands, and knew there was no way she could adequately wash her own hair.

And then a light bulb went off in my head. Of course this light bulb went off after much help from Bert. Sometimes it takes a moment to enlighten me.

At home, she's one of four. She has two younger brothers, and has had to grow up quickly. Perhaps our house is the only place she can truly be a kid. She apparently loved having all my attention giving her baths, putting out her pajamas, brushing her hair and reading her bedtime stories.

I went to her room, where she lay in the princess pajamas Bert and I recently bought her. I had a lump in my throat. I sat down and told her she was growing up too fast. I began to think about how pretty soon she wouldn't need me at all. But I was wrong. I still need my Mama, and I'm 25 years old.

Ariana leapt in my lap and put her arms tightly around me. It was the biggest hug she's ever given me.

"I'm not growing up too fast, Anisa!" she exclaimed. She told me how much she loves having time with me, and she loves me giving her baths.

I finally understood why she follows me around everywhere...because I let her be a kid.

And that's how it should be.

Burn, Baby, Burn

My favorite bars always end up in flames.

No, seriously, I and other former and current Washingtonians are joined in our devastation at the burning of the Capitol Lounge. I was going to link to their web site, but it's down too. It feels like the remnants of a confused young adult trying to make it in DC are no more. I have a million memories from that place. My favorite: the jukebox. My best friend, Amber, and I would play D12's "Purple Pills" whenever we would go there. And then, of course, was the night that our friend went to the jukebox with a bunch of quarters. Fifteen minutes later, he sat there with a mischievous grin as six Prince songs played in a row.

That place is gone. I just can't believe it.

It was just a few blocks from my apartment, and a favorite place to meet friends after work. Don't get me wrong...I wouldn't want to revisit that time in my life. It wasn't the best time for me, but I certainly learned a lot about myself. I guess I always thought I would go back one day, in a much more stable time in my life, put fifty cents in the jukebox and play "Purple Pills." I would smile and my life would come full circle.

No more. That simply won't ever happen.

It's the same thing that happened to me after college. There was a bar called Flo and Eddie's that was THE place to go. They had great food and a wonderful atmosphere. Lots of rumors went around after it burned to the ground. Was it an accident? No one really knows, but there's a lot of speculation. My aunt used to go there on Fridays for an appetizer when she was a newlywed. Seems everyone had fond memories of that place. I remember all sorts of good times there with friends. I can remember sitting around a big table with my group of girlfriends laughing and having a wonderful time. Don't get me wrong about this one either...I wouldn't go back to college again if I could. I guess like The Lounge, I always thought I'd go back one day. Life would come full circle, and I'd revisit the past when I was in a much better place in my life. Bert used to go there and I can't help but wonder if we walked by each other before we knew the other. It just makes me sad that I can't go back to that either.

Parts of my past have literally burned away. Apartments were thrown up on the old Flo and Eddie's land. Who knows what will become of Capitol Lounge? I remember lots of good times, but I remember not-so-good times as well. Sometimes I wonder if the universe does things symbolically. Maybe those places burning should let me know pain in my past is finally over. Maybe you don't have to go back to prove yourself. Maybe sometimes memories should stay just that.

That being said, I will really miss all the laughter and good times spent at those places. But, while they're gone, I'm still here.

And I can make new memories.

Makin' A Fuss

Organic Chee-tos in hand, I walked back to my bedroom yesterday afternoon about 1pm. I had the remote and was in my jammies.

I was sick.

I had a horrible headache and felt very nauseated yesterday. The nausea's gone, but remnants of the headache are here. I really hope I don't have sinus infection #3 for the year. Ugh.

Anyway, I came to work yesterday morning, but felt so horrible that I left at lunch. I got home, put on an old t-shirt and shorts, and settled into bed. I don't know about you, but when I'm sick I have my special "sick food." Pizza Hut cheesesticks. I love them so much, and will only allow myself to partake in the greasy, cheesy pleasure on sick days. Otherwise, I'd blow up to the size of who knows what. I freaking love those things.

Bert called, and I made him call Pizza Hut for me. I felt so nauseated that I munched on Chee-tos until Pizza Hut came knocking. Me and my cheesesticks were headed for an afternoon of "The Young and the Restless" followed by White Oleander, which was showing on Lifetime. I am one of those people that can't stand to watch more than two hours of TV in a row. I start feeling physically ill and worthless...except when I'm sick. I tried to change things up and lie on the couch, but that proved too laborious for me. I felt like I was going to throw up anywhere except my bed.

I forced myself outside around 3pm to get a bit of sun while walking down the driveway to check the mail. "Yes!" I thought. Us Weekly had arrived. Even feeling woozy, I had to read it. When I came back from the hospital once and was completely out-of-it, I came home and read Us Weekly then as well. I still remember it was the first issue with Britney and K-Fed on the cover, and even in my completely drugged state, I knew I had to find out the latest dish.

Anyway, I tore through the magazine, chatted with my aunt and kept taking regular does of meds. Advil is, in my opinion, the cure-all, and it certainly made me feel somewhat better. I had no appetite the rest of the day, and I literally stayed in my bed for who knows how many hours. Everytime I got up, I felt horrible.

Bert tried to help me, but I started getting fussy because I felt like he wasn't taking adequate care of me. Yeah, he brought me water and whatever I asked for, but I felt something was missing.

I looked at him in all seriousness and declared, "I need you to make a fuss over me."

He looked at me with confusion in his eyes. However, what I had said did the trick.

"You poor little sick baby!" he exclaimed.

I smiled with glee and became as dramatic as Scarlett O'Hara. I put my hand over my forehead and said, "I'm so sick!"

We laughed, and I made him make a fuss over me all night long.

I finally started feeling better.

I woke up this morning, still with a slight headache. I just know it's another stupid sinus infection, and if Advil and sinus meds don't cure all by the morning, I guess I have no choice but to head to the doctor. Ick.

All I know is everyone has their needs when they're sick. Some people need lots of their favorite food and drink. Others need their backs rubbed. Me? Just make a big ol' fuss over me, and I'll quickly be on the road to recovery.

Ladies Night

I spent all morning and most of the afternoon Saturday at my very first Junior League event. I woke up very sleepy and the last thing I wanted to do was get up, get dressed and put on my happy face. Saturday mornings are made for sleeping, right?

I was a little bit excited about meeting a bunch of new women. I thought the organization would be a great idea because most of the ladies joining are "young marrieds" like me. Some have children, and some don't. Most work and most are very sociable and outgoing. It took me back to sorority rush, except this time around, it was much more enjoyable. As an adult, those pressures I felt in college were gone. Everyone seemed to be at ease and grateful for the female comraderie. I know I was.

I used to complain when my friends would get boyfriends or get married because they would all of a sudden become completely anti-social. They wouldn't return calls and would never be available any more. I know being in a serious relationship definitely takes a lot of time, but it's still important to have time for friends.

I recently read a study that said people who spend time with their friends are much healthier and live longer than people who don't. I think it's important to nurture friendships and create new ones. Too often, people forget how much they enjoyed going to get dinner with a friend or talking on the phone and catching up. People are social creatures, and I was thrilled to be around a bunch of women. Women like me, in a similar phase of life.

We were all eager to form Lunch and Dinner groups in order to spend more time together. Seems all of us crave that connection.

I have been so blessed lately to find many things that have brought joy into my life. Being married, joining a women's organization and blogging are some of the things that have enriched my life beyond imagination.

And right now, I'm very much looking forward to enjoying a Ladies Night with my new group of friends.

Watching Fireworks

So, when Bert and I went to see "The Skeleton Key," this man repeatedly talked on his cell phone during the movie. He wasn't whispering. He was talking as loud as you would if you were in your car or at home talking on the phone.

I don't get it.

Well, I didn't get it because it was plain rude, but I understand his fascination with his cell phone. I'm obsessed with mine too.

I think all these little gadgets are bringing out the "kid" in adults. I just got a camera phone about two weeks ago, and I feel the need to take pictures of everything. Everything. Why I have pictures of a big leaf and my hand, I don't know. I just felt that they must be captured on film at the time. And I love that it's a flip phone and that I can download ringtones. Every time "Don't Phunk With My Heart" starts playing, I reach for the phone. I am just fascinated with it.

And my iPod? Don't even get me started. I think everyone should own an iPod. Think about it...all your favorite songs on one tiny machine! You can listen to it at the gym, in the car and even at home! Your own personal soundtrack to life is kept on it. You can put songs from CDs on it or purchase songs. I love pressing all the little buttons and whirling my finger around the volume wheel. Who came up with this stuff? Thank you, Mr. iPod Man and Mr. Camera Phone Man!

And last night, we went out with friends who had a new vehicle with a DVD player in the back seat. I was mesmerized by all the buttons. I just wanted to move all my stuff in there I was so fascinated.

But then it hit me.

I can talk on my phone all day, but it's not the same as hugging a person while telling them that you love them. I can take pictures of anything and everything, but it will never be as beautiful as the moment I saw it. I can listen to Coldplay over and over on my iPod, but it will never compare to seeing them in concert. I can watch "National Treasure" on DVD, but it will never compare to the moment I actually visited The National Archives.

It's the fact that you can watch fireworks on TV, but they don't even compare in the least to watching them under the stars. So while I love technology, I hope it will never replace the simpler things in life. I appreciate that I can keep in touch with people far away. I love listening to music and watching movies, but they can't replace the human touch and experiencing things for yourself.

I just know that I can email and call Bert all day long if something is bothering me. But the minute he walks through the door is the first time I ever truly feel better. And there's no machine that can replace that.

Clean Sheet Day

Recently, I've been having a lot of "You Know You're An Adult When..." moments. I think being 25 really is different...I feel different. I like the place I'm at in my life.

Anyway, here are some of my epiphanies. These are many things that I've realized lately.

• You don't even get grossed out cutting chicken anymore.
• You reach your hand right down in the sink to get any yucky stuff out. You dispose of it, and don't even flinch.
• Poop marks in the toilet? You grab the toilet brush and aren't even grossed out.
• Clean sheet day is one of life's greatest pleasures.
• You love going out to eat in large part because it doesn't mean you have to clean the kitchen.
• You can only rest when the house is clean.
• You can't sleep 'til noon anymore.
• You go to the gym on the weekends.
• You realize not everything in life is supposed to be fun, and you know that you have to do stuff you don't like sometimes. And you're OK with that.
• You become concerned that you need to open up a Roth IRA ASAP.
• You head straight to the sale racks.
• Your significant other is lying there having trouble sleeping. After asking what's wrong, you jump out of bed, half-asleep and rummage through the medicine cabinet for them. You don't even care that you're exhausted too.
• You actually have a bunch of stuff in the medicine cabinet.
• You realize that you're not the center of the universe.
• You become concerned with causes outside of yourself...world hunger, genocide, etc. You want to learn more. You want to help.
• When a homeless person asks for money, you don't automatically think they're going to spend it on drugs or alcohol. You give them a dollar and know that you did the best you could.
• You don't have to agree with your parents or your significant other on everything. You become more comfortable with your own ideas, and feel more confident stating why you feel certain ways.
• You realize some of life's simplest pleasures are acting like a kid...eating messy ice cream cones, taking naps, picking wildflowers and spending time with your mom.
• You realize your parents knew something, after all.
• Your job's important, but you know that your life is measured by how you affected others, not if you worked overtime.
• You realize you still have a lot to learn...and that's pretty exciting.

I know I'll learn a lot more, but I wanted to share some of my latest lessons. I still remember being about 15 and making beef stew for my family. I was seriously disgusted at cutting the beef into pieces. Now I cut chicken with no problem. Surely that's a sign I'm growing up.

And crawling into clean sheets last night...well, that was pure heaven. I'm glad I don't wait for surprises and big events to bring me great joy. Those moments are in day-to-day life.

And I'm glad I can recognize them.

Blonde Brunette

Karma will come back to bite you in the butt.

After making much fun of Jessica Simpson for being so stupid, I think the "dumb bug" has now come for me. I pride myself on being an intelligent woman. After all, I graduated summa cum laude from college, and I consider myself well-spoken and articulate. I use impeccable grammar 99% of the time.

Or at least I thought I did.

Here are two of my latest momentary lapses in judgment:

• "But I thought the Alamo was a boat. You, know 'Save the Alamo!' I thought it was sinking." Bert looked at me in awe. We were passing a fort in Savannah and I said I'd never seen a fort and didn't really understand what they looked like. He then told me the Alamo was a fort, to which I replied the aforementioned statement.
• "I am so glad that no one fighted on the trip when my parents were here." Yes, I said fighted. Twice. I am not sure what prompted this horrific error in grammar.

And I can't resist telling everyone Bert's "brain fart":

• Me: "Is our hospital (St. Mary's) named after Mary Mary or another saint?" Bert: "I'm not sure, but there's about to be another St. Mary." Me: "Who?" Bert: "Mother Teresa." Me: "But her name is Teresa." Us: laughing so hard we could barely speak.

I guess everyone has "blonde" or in my case, "blonde brunette," moments. I think these moments are hilarious and show our imperfections. Which make us all the more endearing.

I think I became "less smart" after spending a few months grading high school English tests. These test were administered by the State of Georgia, and the writing samples I graded helped to determine if the students passed high school or not. Some of my memories:

• "im pretikylar" - supposed to be in particular
• "George W. Bush was President during the Civil War."
• "One example of technology today is Barney."

and one that I thought really was telling at where the youth of America is today:

• "And then I heard '1,2 Step' and realized my cell phone was ringing." This was her "example of technology today." Oh well, I must admit I love hearing "Don't Phunk With My Heart" as my personal ringtone.

Now, please realize I am in no way poking fun at blondes. I sported blonde streaks for a year at one time myself. I appreciate how most of my blonde friends poke fun at themselves and blame their momentary lapses in judgment on their blonde hair.

So I'm blaming mine on that too. Even thought I don't have blonde hair.

I try to think of these moments as nothing more than my brain trying to give me a break. I'm an over-analyzer and a worrier. So when I won't do it for myself, my brain tells me it's time to lighten up.

But I'm keeping my hair dark.

"House" At The House

Well, you know it's just sad when simply watching non-reality TV makes you feel like you've done something good for your mind.

Last night, we decided to watch "House," a FOX drama about a team of doctors at a hospital. Since I am still mad at Sandra Oh for popping up unwelcome in a nightmare I had, "Grey's Anatomy" is off limits for our television viewing pleasure at the moment.

Anyway, we sat there and watched a real drama. OK, so it wasn't really real, but it was interesting, had mystery to it, and was full of great actors. It was entertainment that wasn't mindless. I, too, was wondering why Joey had a high estrogen level. What? He was gay?? I never would've guessed...and the Chinese meds...whoa. Let's just say I was very involved in the story. The show is an hour long, and it felt like I'd watched a mini-movie. I was very satisfied, and felt like I had actually expanded my mind. Just because a show actually made me think again.

I shut it back an hour later with "Laguna Beach" and "Sweet Sixteen" on MTV. I'm afraid what will become of the world when today's high schoolers become adults. It's.just.scary.

In all seriousness, when did America become more obsessed with reality TV than acting? I'm sure everything goes in cycles and this is just a fad, but even I forgot how great comedies and dramas can be. When "Friends" went off the air, it was like an era ended for me. Except for catching the occasional "Will and Grace," my viewing habits began to revolve around E!, VHI, MTV, ESPN and CNN.

Not anymore.

I really want to get involved in "Desperate Housewives," but I don't know what to do since it comes on at the same time as "The Surreal Life." Maybe it's time to say goodbye to the house full of celebrity clowns and flip on over to the latest show to really cause a wave. I've seen a few episodes of the newest hit, and I really do enjoy it. I, too, want to know what's going on down at Wisteria Lane.

I remember being little and delighting in "Who's the Boss," "Growing Pains" and "The Cosby Show." I miss television like that. Where are today's Tonys and Angelas? Where are Mike and Carol? Where is Dr. Huxtable? Rudy? Theo? Are they out there?

All I know is that after a long day at work, going to the gym and cooking supper, I want to watch something fun and relaxing. I know I'm sucked into reality TV, but I'm going to try and check out some of the new shows. Whether it's "House," "Lost" or "Desperate Housewives," I'm in the mood for some real entertainment.

It's just like the difference I feel when reading Us Weekly or my novel du jour, Ya-Yas in Bloom. Each has their place, and I find a lot of enjoyment in reading both. One's a celeb magazine, and the other's modern literature. One's frivolous and the other's not.

I think I've finally realized that a mind can't exist on a diet of celebrity gossip alone.

Tag!

I've been tagged by Kellie! Here are the rules of the game...

*List five songs that you are currently digging...it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're any good but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now.

Post these instructions, the artists, and the five songs in your blog. Then tag five other people to see what they're listening to.

1. "All That You Can't Leave Behind" by U2
2. "Amsterdam" by Guster
3. "Bohemian Like You" by the Dandy Warhols
4. "Alive" by POD
5. "Oh" by Ciara

1-2 I love to listen to at work, 2-4 I love to work out to, and 5 I love to dance in the car to!

TAG: I hope everyone will play!! Leave me your top five in my comments section or feel free to post on your own site. :)

Glasses Me

Isn't it funny how one accessory or article of clothing can completely change how you feel? Me, I'm talking 'bout my glasses. I'm used to them now because my eyes would hurt without them if I looked at a computer screen for too long. But still, there's just something about glasses that makes me feel studious. They just make me feel different.

It's Glasses Me that figured out how to send this picture from my camera phone to email in under five minutes with no instruction whatsoever. It's Glasses Me that edited the HTML code of Friday's post so that the spacing was correct. Glasses Me interviewed and was offered the job I currently have. Glasses Me is hard-working and professional.

I rarely wear glasses outside of work. I have a stigmatism, so I really just need them if I am looking at something glaring, like a computer screen. I feel terribly off balance if I try to get up and walk with them on, even though I've had them for over three years. It feels funny to kiss Bert with them on. I don't like to read with them on, because I can't stop looking under the lenses. Glasses Me doesn't make many outside of work appearances. Once in a while I'll surprise Bert and wear them because he loves them, but I have to stay extra alert not to bump into things. I just feel off if I try to walk around with them.

Speaking of glasses, I have a bit of a confession to make. Yes, those glasses I (and most of my friends) wore in college were fake. Yes, you read that right. For under $5 at Claire's Boutique, you too could appear a brainiac, even after an extremely late night out. We really bought them because days when you were running late to class, there was just something about glasses that make the disheveled look become cute. I look back and wonder what in the world I was thinking. I guess we all do silly things in college for the sake of looking a certain way.

But whether it's my glasses, my favorite pair of jeans or my new gorgeous necklace, it's amazing how different something material can make me feel. I feel sassy in my jeans and elegant in my necklace. Many items I have are simply extensions of my personality, and whether it's Glasses Me or not, I'm still the same person. Glasses Me seems to immediately get more respect. People automatically assume I'm twice as intelligent with glasses on than without. I don't get the creepy looks from people nearly as much when I've got on my glasses.

I don't know what it is, but my glasses make me appear no-nonsense and completely professional. If I'm looking at someone and nodding while I have my glasses on, they seem to have no clue that my mind is in some faraway place. And my glasses aren't about to tell them otherwise.

The Luckiest

100 Things

Chris at Sweet Tooth did this post recently, and I thought it was a great idea. I have seen this list on many people's blogs, and I think it gives a true insight into someone's personality. So, I am now joining the ranks! Here's my list. Hope you enjoy!

1. I used to bite my nails.
2. I found the solution to stop biting nails was keeping them painted.
3. I get my entire face waxed every two weeks.
4. I have shaved every day for as long as I can remember.
5. My favorite color is hot pink.
6. I can play the flute and the piano.
7. I used to twirl flag in high school.
8. Yes, I was a sorority biatch.
9. I used to work in Washington, DC for a wonderful Republican congressman from my home district.
10. I am now a Democrat.
11. Once I had blonde streaks in my hair. Okay, it was for an entire year.
12. Once I plucked my eyebrows while watching "Saturday Night Fever." They looked drawn-on they were so thin when I got done.
13. I love disco music. And rock. And rap. And alternative.
14. I am just now able to stomach country music.
15. My favorite song ever is "Beautiful Girl" by Pete Droge and the Sinners.
16. My favorite movie is "Steel Magnolias."
17. I love to watch "Entertainment Tonight" on the E! channel and then on ABC, just to make sure I didn't miss anything.
18. I hated the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." I just didn't get what was so good about it.
19. I am totally on Jennifer Aniston's side in this Brangelina fiasco.
20. I used to want to be the next Oprah Winfrey.
21. Maybe I still do...minus the diva attitude.
22. I love saving money.
23. I love spending money.
24. I shop at the Gap so much that the manager gave me a "Friends & Family" discount.
25. I am a daydream believer.
26. Bert first proposed to me after I knew him for two months. I was all yucky and sweaty, cooking in the kitchen. I said yes, but said that didn't count as my real proposal!
27. I was voted Best Personality in high school.
28. A defining moment in my shopping life was when I was about 12 and watching an interview with Jodie Foster. She told the interviewer that she was "just getting into clothes." I decided then and there that I, too, wanted to "get into clothes."
29. I used to hide in the hamper, which was the bottom of a bathroom closet, in my old house when my sister and I would play hide-and-seek. She never found me.
30. I have an exceptional memory.
31. I am a Muslim.
32. I am interested in Sufism...Islamic mysticism...(kind of like Kabbalah for Jews). They believe God is in everything. They believe that life is a spiritual practice in getting closer to God. The way they practice Islam is the epitome of peace.
33. I am reading Ya-Yas in Bloom by Rebecca Wells. It is great.
34. The next book I am going to read is Freakonomics.
35. My middle name is Margrett. That was my grandmother's name. It's spelled that way because that's how my great-grandmother thought it was spelled.
36. I used to be really uncomfortable with who I was. I'm not anymore.
37. I went to public school until the 8th grade. I then transferred to a private school. I wonder how that change has made my life different.
38. I am sad that not everyone has access to healthcare.
39. I am a little bit of a hypochondriac.
40. My favorite food is Papa John's cheese pizza.
41. I ate the best cookie in the entire universe last week at a cookie store. It was chocolate chip walnut. They even warmed it up for me. It was so good that I felt no guilt from the fat or calories.
42. I had to go to the hospital when I was little for a hip infection.
43. I have had shingles.
44. Every job I've had has had positive aspects, but none of them have been exactly what I was looking for.
45. I'm beginning to wonder if anyone has their dream job.
46. I am applying for a Master's in Public Administration degree.
47. I just joined the Junior League.
48. I dreamed I had a beautiful baby girl last night. For some reason, we realized we didn't have a crib for her.
49. I already have my kid's names picked out, and no, I won't tell.
50. I used to delight in looking at my mom and dad's old high school yearbooks.
51. I have been blessed with wonderful friends throughout my life.
52. I have had some terrible friends too. The worst is when you don't have a clue what kind of person they're going to turn out to be.
53. I knew Trent Lott was going to step down as Senate Majority Leader five seconds before the rest of the world.
54. I met Dennis Quaid in New Orleans. I have a picture to prove it. I walked up to him after his band, "The Sharks," performed at The House of Blues. I asked him if he had a pen. He found one for me, and then gave me his autograph.
55. I met the dad from "My Two Dads." It's not Paul Reiser; it's the other one. I was at Disney World and I asked for his autograph. He was mean to me. See where his career has gone? Nowhere. What a meanie.
56. I hold grudges.
57. I am horrified of scary movies, but I continue to watch them. I can't decide if I'm going to see "The Skeleton Key" or not.
58. My grandparents just sent me a new sari for my 1-year wedding anniversary. It is gorgeous.
59. My step-grandfather gave me my grandmother's gorgeous diamond ring for a wedding gift. I will never forget his generosity in that moment.
60. My mom and dad took us out of school for a Rolling Stones concert in high school. I thought that was so cool.
61. I talk to my mom and aunt almost every day.
62. I had the most beautiful bridesmaids dresses I've ever seen.
63. I love amusement parks. Bert hates them.
64. I have a hard time not staying focused on the past. I am trying to learn to look more toward the future.
65. I have straight hair.
66. I straighten my hair daily.
67. My mom did a wonderful job teaching me how to ride a bike.
68. My dad did a wonderful job teaching me how to swim.
69. I love taking showers.
70. I hate taking baths. I don't understand how to get clean if I'm sitting in dirty water.
71. I hate working out.
72. I work out 3-4 times per week.
73. I love chocolate. I mean, I love chocolate.
74. My favorite candy is a Lindt bar. It's Swiss chocolate with a wafer layer. Heavenly.
75. My favorite flower is bright pink tulips.
76. I abhor baby's breath. That is the ugliest "flower" I have ever seen. It looks like dandruff to me.
77. I am so afraid of dandruff that I use dandruff shampoo daily.
78. I have no idea if I really have dandruff or not. All I know is my hair is almost black, so I can't wait around to see if I do or not.
79. The ocean terrifies me.
80. I read Us Weekly religiously.
81. My biggest phobia is being buried alive. Therefore, I plan on donating several of my vital organs...just to make sure.
82. I have battled my weight my entire life.
83. My first column is being published a week from today.
84. I hate ironing and folding clothes.
85. I am anal about cleanliness.
86. I love to talk on the phone.
87. I don't like it that my new age bracket is 25-34 on some forms. That scares me.
88. I don't believe people "complete" each other. I am against that whole "Jerry Maguire" concept. You have to be able to complete yourself and find someone to complement you.
89. I love it when movies make me cry.
90. I love it when movies make me laugh.
91. I am a hopeless romantic.
92. I am bad about being critical of others.
93. I don't smoke.
94. I love the beach.
95. I hate sand.
96. I love sleep.
97. I still love to play pretend and "what if." I mean, I have to know what I'd do in case I win the lottery!
98. I consider myself a very lucky person.
99. I hope to publish a book one day. Or at least write one.
100. I believe in happily ever after.

Doogie Said It Best

"I am so putting this on my blog!"

I was sitting on the couch watching TV when a commercial came on about the new show "How I Met Your Mother." Neil Patrick Harris, a.k.a. Doogie Howser, M.D., says the above quote in the commercial. I.love.it. Doesn't this quote capture blogging perfectly? Haven't we all had those moments?

Blogging has become such a part of our culture. I read in a recent People that bloggers have been getting fired for writing about their work on their blog. Word to the wise: don't post anything you wouldn't want your boss to stumble across! Gossiping about co-workers, disclosing company policy and posting questionable photographs have all gotten people fired. Yikes.

People ask me if I plan my posts ahead of time, or if I just sit down and start to write. It's really a combination of the two. Sometimes something happens and I get a "Doogie moment." Other times, I look at the blank screen on my computer and just start typing away. Words just start flowing, sometimes about nothing. My posts are often Seinfeld-esque, taking little idiosyncracies from everyday life and writing about them. Posts that are something about nothing. Other times, it's something very personal and important to me.

Why do I do this? Simple. I love to write. I love to put into words how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking about. Whether I am upset and I need it for therapeutic purposes or I want to share something funny, I am excited to post and share it with all of you. It's proven to be a wonderful outlet of expression.

Some of you are my friends and family, others are friends of friends and others are my Blogland friends. I am amazed at the closeness Blogland friends come to share. We read about what's going on in each other's lives and share joys and sorrows. You all keep up with me better than some of my friends, simply because you know what's going on in my world daily. I check your blog to see if you got that job or how your trip went. It's amazing how you can feel like you know someone just from reading their words.

Among my Blogland friends are teachers and nurses and ex-strippers and even someone fighting daily for his life. And I've learned more than I ever would've thought from each one of them. The bottom line is: these are all people. They have families and friends, and I feel privileged they let me inside of their lives. I take something from everyone. I just hope I'm giving a little back.

It has been an unexpected joy to stumble across blogging. Personally and creatively, it has given me much more than I ever expected. Because of this, I am getting ready to email my very first column to my editor. A week from tomorrow, I'll see it in print. This is a milestone for me, an accomplishment checked off a list.

When Doogie said, "I am so putting this on my blog!", I knew exactly what he meant. And then and there I decided to blog about blogging.

So here's my little homage to what so many of us enjoy doing. Here's to lives shared, joys multiplied and internet *hugs* for sorrows. Here's to all of you.

'Scuse Me

I don't know about you, but when I drink carbonated drinks, they make me really have to burp. Last night, I had a big glass full of delicious Diet Sunkist. Yum.

*Burp*

I looked at Bert. This burping thing is kind of new for us. A few months ago we were at the mall and I accidentally burped. We laughed, and ever since then, we've been burping.

"'Scuse Me," I said. We laughed and went back to our Sonic treats.

No, I'm not like Cameron Diaz. I don't do it on purpose and we don't have contests. I'm not "proud" of my burps, but they happen. And we laugh at each other.

Last night was just one of those relaxed nights. We are usually pretty healthy, but both of us were craving something really bad, so we headed out to Sonic for a Blast and a sundae. We laid there on the couch, devouring ice cream, relaxing and yes, burping, when necessary.

"This is the life," I said.

No, I will never let myself completely go. Certain things I will never do, not because I'm not comfortable, but because I think certain things are too unladylike. I just can't. And I don't want to.

I guess it's finding that balance of comfort and respect that makes the perfect combination. It's the woman being able to not wear any make-up all weekend and the man having Chee-tos crumbs all over his t-shirt that really are tell-tale signs of a relationship. Taking these things in stride and not caring one bit about them...and not having to always look perfect for the other...that's real comfort.

I'll always excuse myself after I burp...gotta have that ladylike ending to it at least. And it sure feels nice not to have Coke build-up in my chest anymore.

The Girls NOT Next Door

So, I got all ready to watch VH1’s fabulous Celebreality line-up last night. It’s “The Surreal Life,” “Hogan Knows Best” and “Celebrity Fit Club 2.” It’s completely mindless entertainment, and it’s the perfect way to end your weekend. I was in my pajamas, snuggled up on the couch and then it happened. They were showing re-runs.

What’s a girl to do? Flip on over to E! and watch the premiere of “The Girls Next Door,” of course.

This show chronicles the life of Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends at The Playboy Mansion. Bridget, Kendra and Holly are his live-ins, and the show wasn’t really what I expected. Beneath the platinum blonde hair (think giant Gwen Stefani hair), the giant boobs and the jealousy over Playboy centerfolds, these girls really aren’t like you and me. Not even under all that. I guess I thought that was the point of the show, in a way. I though they were going to show us how these women are, and that we’d see they could be like “the girls next door.” Just like you and me, but they’re not.

I’m really glad they don’t live next door to me.

OK, OK, yes they have feelings and so do we, but they KNOWLINGLY entered into this relationship situation with Hugh Hefner and now Holly wants all the other girls out of the house. She says she’s proud she’s Hef’s main gal, and that he needs to get rid of the excess baggage around the house.

“You knew Hugh Hefner was infamous for having tons of cookie cutter girlfriends living with him, you stupid girl!” I was yelling at the TV.

What girl in her right mind do you know would share her boyfriend/fiancé/husband with anyone else? And, oh yes, they answered the question you’re all wondering: yes, they all have sex with Hef.

Ew.

Bridget bawled her eyes out, wishing she could be in Playboy. She said she’s wanted to in the magazine since.she.was.five. I mean, I might’ve wanted to be Miss America when I was five, but I didn’t have aspirations of putting my goodies on display at that age. Her dad subscribed to Playboy, and when her parents weren’t looking, she would peek through the magazine. At age five, I would’ve been in shock. She couldn’t help thinking how beautiful the naked women and their big giant boobies were.

And then you have Kendra. Bert and I are convinced Kendra is a closet lesbian. She’s a tomboy through and through, and she doesn’t seem to have “girl” emotions. Holly is a little possessive of Hef and Bridget is jealous of all the Playboy centerfolds coming out to the Mansion to do their shoots since is was her unfulfilled lifelong dream to be in the mag. Kendra just wants to shoot some hoops, yo. She practically kidnapped one of the girls coming to shoot for the mag and took her out to the batting cages. It was just weird. She just wants to play sports and chill. She is emotionless.

At the end of the hour of insanity, Hef told his gal pals they were going to appear on the cover of Playboy. Bridget’s lifelong dream is finally going to be fulfilled. This is a woman who has a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in Communications. Nothing ever satisfied her because all she ever really wanted to do was be in Playboy. What will happen after this is fulfilled? Will she ever have a goal again??

The girls coming to pose in the magazine seem much more "normal" (whatever that is) than these chicks. Yes, they bare all, but they don’t live with an almost 80-year old man who’s probably seen more naked women in the history of the world than anyone with the exception of The Good Lord. They do their business and get on with their lives. They’re not immersed in Playboy 24-7, sharing a man betwixt them.

Sorry, I’m grossed out about the whole sex thing again with Hugh. Ew.

I guess I thought this show was going to be like a bunch of Barbies playing around in a dreamhouse where they swam naked in The Grotto. They would drink mimosas and sunbathe all day, and just be little carbon copies of each other, running around in slow motion with big smiles plastered on their faces. It would be obviously fake, and they would be lounging around, scantily clad and having a ball. Instead, I was left feeling sad for them.

And even though they don’t seem “normal” on the surface, surely deep down, they have to know there’s more to life. Holly flat-out admitted she wanted to marry Hef and have his babies. She’s living in such denial if she ever thinks that’s going to happen. And strangely enough, Hef seems to have no emotional attachment to any of them. In his own way, he seems to acknowledge this really is all just for show. I think he forgot to tell the girls.

Now, I’m not hating on Hugh Hefner. Undeniably, this man has created an empire and his magazine isn’t disgusting like Hustler and the like. I think he does try to do it in an artistic, rather than gratuitous manner. He doesn’t mistreat his girlfriends…they live in the lap of luxury and nothing is expected of them.

But wouldn’t that be a sad life if all your significant other expected from you was to keep your roots done, and look like you’re walking a fine, fine line between beautiful and trashy? What if you were expected to never ruffle any feathers and accept your place standing by your man with all his other women? What a life.

I sure am glad they don’t live next door to me.

No Crystal Ball

This has been one of those weeks where if I knew how much work was ahead, I think I would've pulled the covers over my head. (love my rhyme, don't cha?)

Each day I thought I'd accomplished tons of unforeseen tasks, but the next day seemed to hold just as many again. I have handled many projects at work and managed to keep my house spic and span. But if I'd have seen a checklist of this week, I think I would've taken a Tylenol PM and said "Night, night."

I sure am glad we don't know the future. I am so happy that as a baby I didn't know all the pain I would endure. I'm grateful I didn't know the joys that were ahead either. I think people often don't know what they can or can't handle until they actually get there.

God won't give you anything you can't handle.

Or so the saying goes...but I really think the truth of the matter is we can handle just about anything. To me, at least, this is what it means. People are resilient. We can pick up and keep going. These "things we can't handle" don't ever seem to happen. We really never have the opportunity to say, "I can't deal with this. This will destroy me." We have to stay strong, even when we don't want to. Who wants to spend a lifetime destroyed and distraught? Might as well make the moments we have the best they can be.

The joys wouldn't be as sweet if you knew they were coming. Think of some of the most wonderful surprises you have had. Who wants to know when they're getting proposed to? Who wants to know about a special gift waiting for them, for no reason at all? Who wants to know they will receive an award? Who doesn't want the joy of those wonderful moments?

Many people believe that "black magic" is a sin. Fortunetellers, tarot cards, etc. I admit I have been very tempted to have my palm read, just for the fun of it. But I really don't want what they say to get into my head. If someone tells me that I'm about to come into money or that someone close to me is about to endure a hardship, I don't want to know. Even though I know Mrs. Lamar (you know you have one of those in your town) isn't real, I know it would get into my head.

I can't seem to stay away from my horoscope though! I really only let myself check it on my birthday now, because it's always going to say great things on my special edition birthday horoscope. I'm supposed to have a fabulous year in love and in money. Who doesn't love to read that? I knew I had to step back when Sidney Omarr passed away and I was really sad. He wrote the horoscope for "The Washington Post" and I really believed everything that was written. I used to immediately get on the Post's web site and see what Sydney had predicted. If it was supposed to be a great day, I was happy and relaxed. If I was supposed to have a disagreement with a co-worker, I was careful to steer clear of controversy. You think you're reading them for fun, but they really get in your head!

All I know is that I don't know what tomorrow holds. I'm glad I didn't know all I had to do today, because everything got done without me spending all week stressing about it. I know that the weekend is ahead, and I can't predict everything that's going to happen. I have no crystal ball. I can't wait to enjoy every moment of this weekend as it comes. I plan on having a good weekend, and that positive attitude certainly ensures a certain amount of good things coming my way.

And that attitude's crystal ball enough for me.

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Ammi's Chicken

I can't wait 'til supper tonight.

When I went home for lunch, I was so excited to get to work on some chicken that I'm making for supper. This isn't any chicken, mind you, it's Ammi's chicken. Ammi is my grandmother and she makes the most delicious Indian food this side of the Atlantic. Last time I was at her house, she made Tandoori Chicken that was out.of.this.world. Before I left Mississippi to come home, I spent some time with Ammi one afternoon while she made me my very own bottle of the special spices that are used to coat the delicious chicken. I wrote everything down very carefully and listened intently as she told me the ingredients and their proportions. I held onto that bottle of spices like it was gold.

I thawed out boneless, skinless chicken breasts last night and went home to put a dry rub on the chicken that is supposed to marinate for at least two hours. These are going to get to marinated for a full six. As I got out the directions, I smiled. So many generations of my family have made this dish and I am the newest! I paid careful attention to all the ingredients I has put stars by on the list. Those are the ones Ammi told me to keep secret, and I plan on doing just that.

Maybe one day I'll have a little Indian daughter of my very own and I'll teach her how to make Indian chicken. She'll have dark hair and light skin, just like me and Ammi. I know she'll be privy to all my main recipes, but the day I teach her this one will be extra special. Generations of my family have made this dish, and I am thrilled to make my first Indian dish tonight.

I know I'll never forget that afternoon with Ammi as long as I live. She was always able to tell me the most magical stories when I was a child. She is truly an amazing woman...the most generous person you would ever hope to meet. She's tiny and strong-willed. She's beautiful and loving. She's devout and non-judgmental. She's a strong woman, and I am so proud to be her granddaughter.

Passing on this recipe to me has created a bond that is very strong...Indian people are bound by food! Family events are focused around the feast. Sundays are marked with a grand spread.

I know my chicken won't be as good as Ammi's, but I sure am going to try. As I washed the orange powder off my fingers, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. I'm sure most of the women didn't use boneless, skinless chicken breasts. I'm sure they didn't have a cute little bottle of the spices already blended. They worked hard so that I didn't have to. They perfected a recipe that is beyond delicious.

I can't wait to finish the dish tonight. I'm serving rice and snow peas with it. I am excited to take that first bite and be transported to that afternoon in Ammi's kitchen. And, thanks to her, I'm starting a new tradition at my home with my very first Indian meal. It's a rite of passage that I'm so proud to take.

In fact, I'm proud to be anything like Ammi at all.

Me So Sleepy

I'm pooped.

Yesterday involved a busy day at work including giving a museum tour, attending a lunch reception and all the other day-to-day tasks. After work, I met a friend downtown and then Bert and I met friends for dinner.

(Don't panic: I've got the VCR set to record "The Real World" episode that I missed last night. The re-run is coming on this afternoon. I'll be OK.)

And when I woke up this morning, I was so exhausted. My first thoughts this morning were dreading the big process of shower/make-up/ironing/getting dressed/blow-drying hair/straightening hair, etc. It's exhausting to be a girl!

Well, actually my first thoughts were the fact that I accidentally hit Bert in my sleep again. It's horrible. This is the second time that I've done this. Last night, I dreamed he spent thousands upon thousands of dollars and I was so angry. He decided he wanted a VW Passat (Amber put this in my head!) and just bought it on the spot without even looking inside the car. He bought all this other stuff and just as I was getting mad in the dream, SMACK! Poor thing woke up, confused at what he had done. He probably figured I had another cheating dream.

Anyway, I pulled myself out of the bed late this morning and my tummy was still full from the turkey sandwich and french fries I had eaten for dinner. I just wanted to get back in the bed and go to sleep.

It really didn't matter, though. Ever since I became very grown-up-like, I've noticed I can't even sleep past 9 on Saturday! Shock! Horror! I really need a morning to sleep in, but I don't even know that I'd be able to get to that really delicious sleep that lasts till 11.

Don't get me wrong...last night was so much fun! We played trivia, and I actually knew some stuff! How I knew Henry Ford invented the assembly line or that Stephen King is the #1 author based on total book sales of all time, I have no idea. I knew all my useless knowledge had a point. We didn't place, but we named our team "The Mix Breeds" and laughed for hours. I really wanted us to be "The Gym Whores" since we all go to the gym and my girlfriend and I share mutual hatred for this chick she nicknamed "the gym whore." Instead, we opted for something else that we thought was hilarious since Bert and I are half white and half something else (he-Spanish me-Indian).

I drank so much water that when I got home that I felt like I was floating. I was so full from dinner and the appetizer of chips and queso that I couldn't even fit Diet Coke in. I forced myself to drink a glass of water. I felt gross. I could barely hold my eyes open and ran as far from the scale as possible when we got home. I knew damage had been done between the lunch reception and a late dinner. This morning confirmed my worst suspicions. Ugh.

Do you ever have days when you're just exhausted? You don't want to take out the garbage, but you do it anyway. You don't want to do anything remotely productive. You want to call into work and say, "Hi. I'm sleepy and feel that too much effort would be required to get dressed today. I'm gonna lay in the bed in my jammies, watch daytime TV and nap on and off. K?"

Why can't we call in sleepy?

I'm impressed at my level of productivity today and have promised I will drag myself to the gym after work. I'll throw something easy together for dinner, and then hopefully I'll get to bed early.

Is this what it feels like to be a grown-up?

Icebreakers

Last night, Bert and I were at this cute little Italian restaurant. We figured it would be a fun, upbeat atmosphere since their big specialty is 1/2 price wine on Monday nights. That usually packs a crowd and makes for fun people-watching.

As it turns out, the people weren't very fun to watch.

First of all, this man at a table diagonal from us continually bored the couple he was with about stories dealing with the National Weather Service.

What?

I mean, it's one thing to say, "Oh my gosh! It's so hot outside!" It's quite another to try to get a conversation starting about the NWS. He talked and talked and talked, and his company looked painfully bored. At one point, we even overheard him say, "I've talked so much that I have hardly eaten!" I think the other people at the table wanted to kill him.

Then there was the couple beside us. The girl was dressed up and the guy had on a football jersey. Completely out of place. They seemed like they had NOTHING to talk about. She was focused solely on her breadsticks.

Then, there were two girls and a guy at another table close by. They would sit there in silence and stare at each other or look intently at the wood grain on the table. Every once in a while, someone would say something. And then silence again.

Then there was my date, Lurch. For some reason, Bert and I got on the subject of "The Munsters" vs. "The Addams Family." He proceeded to do imitations of Cousin It and Lurch. I almost fell off my chair when he said, "You rang?"

We were being silly and laughing and having a great time. We were obviously the only ones, but we didn't care. Yeah, sometimes we'll get in the car and we'll sit there in non-angry silence. We don't have something constantly to say. But there's SUCH a difference between comfortable and uncomfortable silence.

Don't you hate it when you're in an uncomfortable social situation? You're fighting for conversation, and you want more than anything to talk about something more creative than the National Weather Service. So, you use some icebreakers. You run a cross-reference in your head of everything you and the person you're with have in common.

About a month and a half ago, I was out with a friend. Usually we're Chatty Cathy's, but for some reason, the conversation was stale. She seemed like she enjoyed talking about her daughter, so I brought up someone I knew that had no discipline because her parents thought telling children "no" would stifle their creativity. I figured we'd bash their parenting style and have a grand ol' time.

She then patiently explained to me that she never told her daughter no. She said it was important to explain things to an almost 2-year old and not just tell them no.

M-kay. I guess that was such a great tactic because her daughter yelled constantly the entire time we were ever on the phone. I guess somewhere in that screaming she was expressing her creativity.

So then, I brought up a girl I knew that was eight and still slept with her parents. I figured she'd at least think that was a bit much.

My friend's daughter still slept with her and her husband. And my friend didn't show any signs of stopping. She finally conceded that age eight was a bit too old to be bunking with Mommy and Daddy.

Those are examples of icebreakers that don't work. I apologize if I offended anyone, but I guess I thought these were non-controversial topics that anyone would agree on. Kids have to be disciplined and parents have to have the bedroom to themselves once the baby is no longer an infant. We finally went back to our topic of choice - politics. We agreed on that, so we enjoyed a 2-hour session of chatting about all sorts of injustices in the world. The night was saved.

Today, I went to a fabulous lunch reception. I sat at a table full of people I didn't know. The conversation flowed. We mostly chit-chatted about where we were from and our jobs and all that jazz. I guess it's easier to talk to people at an event like that because you can find solace in the food. Discuss how wonderful it is. Shove it in your mouth. Whatever. Food provides a safety net in so many social situations, especially if it's people you hardly know.

I have been in many situations lately with new people, and most of the time it's easy to find something to talk about. Women love to discuss their in-laws. People love to talk about themselves...their job, their family, their latest vacation.

I remember clearly, though, one situation where no icebreaker was necessary. When I met Bert, we just sat on the couch and talked for hours on end. Truly he was my best friend after only knowing him for two hours. Our silences aren't awkward. Conversations aren't forced. It's like that with all my best friends also. We can talk on the phone for hours and never run out of topics.

I'm sure at some point I met some of my friends with what started as an awkward conversation. It may not have been riveting conversation, but I know for a fact no one ever felt the need to discuss the National Weather Service.

Mrs. 3000

Ginger has done it again! I figured that since I had an entirely new blog at counted hit 1000 and a new column at 2000, that hit 3000 should bring about something fun also! I am really thrilled with this fun update! I told Ginger that I wanted something really easy to read, so hopefully this has done it! Yes, people, I even read up to see what would be the most user-friendly! I told her I wanted to post in a different color background than my links area. I told her I loved dots. She's a genius. Look at what she's done!

Ginger's one of those people you can give a million specifications to, but she'll still knock your socks off. She is extremely creative, easy-to-work with and very friendly. That may just be the best part of the whole deal...you do get a wondeful, personalized blog, but you also get a new friend out of the deal.

Thanks a million, Ginger!

Crashers

So, this weekend I saw "Wedding Crashers" with Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn. It was HILARIOUS, and I highly recommend seeing it if you haven't already. The premise is that Owen and Vince crash weddings in hopes of meeting girls. Of course, someone's heartstrings are tugged, and everything that happens in the process in hilarious.

I, myself, have never crashed a wedding. I've never crashed a party. Do people really do that? Yeah, I remember some of my guy friends going to people's weddings uninvited just to take advantage of the open bar. Living in smalltown Mississippi, there was really no chance to attend a wedding where you didn't know anyone. I guess they were just going to be seen at the places where they thought the best party would be happening. I remember an uninvited guest at my wedding that my sister's roommate had invited. I'm not entirely sure how this constituted as an invitation, but lo and behold, the uninvited showed. Being the ultra-observant woman that I am, I immediately noticed her. I later asked my mom why this person was there, and my mom laughed and laughed.

"We knew you'd notice and we didn't want you to get mad!" she said through fits of laughter. "We have no idea why this person was there and why your sister's roommate thought she had the ability to invite people to your wedding."

She didn't try to pick up any men, but she sure came and enjoyed our food. Oh well...the more the merrier I guess. I just know I'd never go to someone's wedding without at least a verbal invite from the bride or groom. Bride's sister's roommate wouldn't cut it for me.

Maybe in bigger cities there are weddings where people blend in. We sent out about 250 invitations to come up with the magical 60% they say that show up. This number was the number that would actually fit in the Chapel where the wedding took place. I suppose there were about 150 or so people there, and most of them I knew. Even being at one of my best friend's sister's weddings where almost 500 people were present, someone would've noticed if an uninvited guest had been present.

I'm not trying to knock the movie...I'm just saying I think most people would notice. But I don't think anyone would care...Owen and Vince were the life of the party! They certainly could've partaken in chocolate-covered strawberries and seafood dip at my reception!

You see, Owen and Vince represent "welcome" crashers. They come, albeit uninvited, but they are fun and make the event a little better.

Then there are people that just crash your day and are in no way invited.

Take yesterday, for example. Gap had overcharged my credit card upwards of $40 for a dress that was purchased on clearance. I had already cut the tag out of the back of the dress because it flipped out whenever I wore it. By the time the bill came, the dress had been worn and enjoyed. I called customer service, but they told me the actual store would have to handle it. Well, Gap had some guest manager to help handle the Back to School rush and was your classic gay salesman. Except he wasn't nice.

He told me it was MY fault I cut the tag out. He said he had no proof that I was trying to return the same dress. I wanted to yell, "Are you trying to say I'm not a medium???" Instead I said, "So you're telling me it's MY fault my credit card was overcharged and I should've anticipated this and not cut the tag out?" He then asked me why I cut it out and I had to explain that it flipped out.

Ridiculous.

I wanted to say, "Yes, you see...I am a con artist. I go from Gap to Gap with the same dress trying to get my account credited...ooh...I'm dangerous."

Finally, he said he was going back to his Tennessee location the next day and the regular manager would handle it. I walked up to the counter and she had already credited my account PLUS given me a 10% off coupon for my trouble. All the employees were telling us that guy had made their weekend terrible.

What an unwelcome crasher.

Some people enter our lives uninvited, but we want many of them to stay. They enrich our lives. People come in our lives at all the "wrong" times, but they seem to make everything right. Some people force themselves into our lives and make themselves pests. But others leave us a little different...in a good way.

And some just make us LMAO...yes, "Wedding Crashers" is that funny. Call someone else who loves to laugh and invite them to a movie about the greatest uninviteds of all time.